The Parasite's Perspective

A mind called across the frozen land. Take me. I am yours.

Wendigo heard. A new gust of wind kicked up and pushed between snow-powdered evergreens. A doe watching for predators while the rest of the herd foraged turned her head. She fixed her eyes on a cluster of trees, which parted with the phantom sound of cougar's claws digging into bark. She snorted and the herd scattered.

Long ago it absorbed the life energy from such creatures. It amplified the harshness of winter and fed off the weak things that succumbed to cold and starvation. That was a simple existence. With the shaman's invitation to punish those who defiled the dead it learned more than just a new way to consume the living. The taste of human sentience twisted its awareness, deepened its hunger, and filled it with desperation while it waited for the next host to offer the pleasures only a mortal body could experience.

Miles of forest rolled past until it pinpointed the siren song of the man's mind. It found him sitting with a meal beside a fire at the entrance of a cave. It slowed its pace to slither unseen around him. A flurry of snow accompanied it. He shivered, leaned closer to the fire, and continued eating. It did not need to investigate the blanket-shrouded form nearby to know the nature of his meal. No amount of respect paid to a body afterward would undo the curse.

It floated to the back of the cave and discovered a second living man, but his mind was not open. Despite his emaciated state, he refused to share his companion's meal. Since the next step in entering the man's mind required him to fall asleep, it examined them to pass the time. Both men were an unhealthy pale color and had strange patches of hair sprouting from their faces. The minds it inhabited before told it that humans do not tend to like the company of others who are different. It wondered what kind of ridicule they faced for their appearance.

The host-to-be finally came back and prepared for bed. His companion fixed him with a hard stare, which he refused to return. It hovered anxiously above him while he made himself comfortable, and then crept like spreading frost into his sleeping thoughts.

***

The snow sucked his feet out from under him and swallowed him under its smooth surface. He clawed at the thick flowing powder until his head broke through. A sheet of ice floated past, and he scrabbled with numb fingers to pull himself onto it. He only had the strength to cling to it as it floated on its way. It rotated with lazy indifference to his struggle. On the horizon a tiny cluster of dots broke up the monotony of the landscape. If he squinted, he could just identify buildings making up a small settlement. Hope warmed his heart, and he kicked at the powder to propel his raft toward it.

His attempt only sapped the remaining strength from his limbs. The ice sheet rotated away from the settlement and he was pulled under. One of his hands lost its grip. He lay with his face pointed to the white sky. His other hand slipped. Something grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled with enough force to nearly wrench his arm from the socket, dragged him on top of the sheet, and dropped him.

He lifted his eyes and stared into the face of a dead man. He smiled and held his hand out to him. "Pierre, friend, I am so glad to see you!"

Pierre seized the collar of his coat and held him up so they were face to face. He did not set him back on his feet. "Jacques, you little worm. Why did you think I would feel the same way?"

The color drained from his skin and a gray haze crept across his eyes. He dropped Jacques and let his arm fall limp at his side. Skin and muscle dissolved from it, leaving skeletal fingers dangling past the coat's sleeve. He put his good hand to his throat, gritted his teeth, and coughed. "You coward! Not content to let the fever have its way, were you? How long did you sit by my side before you decided I did not deserve a chance?"

Jacques pushed himself away. The edge of the ice sheet cut the palm of his hand. He narrowed his eyes at the apparition. "There was no chance! I did what I had to do. You were suffering. I made it quick for you. I made it as painless as I could."

He tried in vain to read the corpse's expression. It did not advance toward him or fling further accusations. The whistle of wind broke the silence and brought a flurry of sleet that stung his face. It enveloped the corpse until he could barely make out the shape standing before him. Two pinpoints of blue light flared from its eyes, and it tilted its head to the side. He crossed his arms and leaned toward it, shivering. "Pierre, please. I am sorry."

An unfamiliar voice whispered. "You took from him. I take with you. It goes that way."

Jacques shook his head. "I do not understand."

The figure lurched forward. "You were hungry. I am hunger. You will feed me."

Jacques turned to leap over the edge of the ice sheet, but the corpse's skeletal hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him into the air. It grinned, revealing four fangs in place of Pierre's human teeth. He opened his mouth to scream, and the corpse thrust its free hand into it. It seized hold of a tooth and yanked.

Jacques writhed and wailed, but it took no notice. It pulled one of its fangs out and jammed it into the socket. It repeated this three more times, and then set him gently on his feet. He swayed, and it placed a hand on his shoulder. It parted bloody lips with a smile. "There. You are proper now. Go. Eat."

It shoved him over the edge of the ice sheet.

***

His name was Jacques. It was a strange name for a human. Wendigo did not need to know anything about its hosts, but it found these little details interesting nonetheless. It watched him rouse from sleep with a new sense of attachment, almost akin to affection. It had so much to offer him, once the connection solidified.

Jacques sat up and coughed. Blood and spittle ran from the corners of his mouth. He spat and wiped his face with his sleeve. In the middle of this action he froze, wide-eyed, before raising a tentative hand to his mouth. He pulled his lips back and felt the sharp point of his new fangs.

It laughed. Each human had a different reaction to the dawning understanding of what was happening, but it had never seen one leap backwards into a rock wall. Jacques rubbed his head and looked at his companion, but he was still asleep. He searched the cave by the light of the early sunrise and the fire's embers. It decided to test the strength of the connection. Hello, human.

Jacques flinched. He held his hands over his ears and bent over, face nearly touching the ground. "Leave me alone!"

It embraced him with its essence, sending tendrils of will deeper into his mind and drawing a violent shiver from him. Do not be afraid. You will have strength. You will live forever. Humans want that, yes?

Jacques shook his head. "Not that way."

It gave its best attempt at a caress, but he only shivered harder. It is only way. Otherwise, you die. You are mine now. I will protect you.

Jacques' whisper of a voice rose to an angry hiss. "I do not belong to anyone!"

The connection grew stronger with every minute, but it still lacked access to his memories. It probed for further clues to understand his odd behavior. You do. You invoked the curse. You are strangers, yes? Come from strange place?

Jacques rose, walked to the fire, and added more logs to it. "I was born in France. I came to Canada a year ago. I do not care what you say; I will either die here in this cave or return home and leave you behind."

It laughed. No going back now. You can feel it. Body first, then mind. You ate one friend. He is cold now. Not so good anymore. We eat other together. Warms you like soup.

It wriggled deeper into his mind. He groaned and clutched his stomach.

I miss warm blood.

He looked over his shoulder at the man in the back of the cave.

Please, I cannot wait. You have better teeth. Go. Eat!

He turned back to the fire and scooted closer to it. He unsheathed a skinning knife from his belt and held it to his wrist. Tears blurred his vision, and he could not steady the shaking in his hand.

It laughed again. You are a coward. You fear death. Worse than me, yes?

He slumped and let his hand drop into his lap.

A voice rose behind him. "Now that you do not have to look after Pierre, will you check the traps with me?"

Do it now!

A hint of panic colored the new voice. "Jacques, what did you do to yourself?"

Jacques refused to look at his companion.

The man crouched beside him. "Why did you do that?"

Jacques' voice shook with his body. "I know I should… but I can't make myself…"

The man took the knife. "No. That is never the solution. We will get through this."

One of you will.

Jacques shook his head. "No, Raymond. You do not understand. Cannot understand. Violating someone like that… it changes you. I hear a voice in my head. Some kind of demon. I do not want to do what it is telling me to do."

Raymond gave a nervous laugh. "Come on, Jacques, you are not possessed by a demon."

Jacques snapped his head up to look Raymond in the eyes. He bared his teeth. "What else could have done this to me?"

Raymond backed into the wall. He tightened his grip on the knife. "Everything is going to be all right. We just need to get you to a priest, and he can-"

"Look around you! How long have we been stuck out here, waiting for help? Do you think this thing is going to wait until we find a settlement with a priest?"

Enough talk, human. Pay attention to me!

Jacques raked his fingers through his hair and rocked back and forth. "I am so cold. My chest feels like it is full of ice. It tells me your blood will make me warm again."

I have more gifts. Draw blood with these!

"Aaagh!"

Jacques yanked his hands from his head and stared at them. The predatory design of his nails now matched his teeth. Blood seeped from gashes in his scalp to mat his limp brown hair. He held his fingers up for Raymond to see. "Please, do something!"

Raymond backed away. He started putting their supplies together. "Come, get your things. We will make it."

Jacques rose and followed with measured steps. He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I… it… so hungry…"

A spasm ripped through his body and almost knocked him off his feet. His eyes wandered off to some point over Raymond's shoulder. The warm brown around the pupils bled away until they were black pinpoints in a sea of blue so pale it was almost white. His will receded to a remote part of his consciousness.

The last threads of Wendigo's will slipped into place. The human fit like a glove- a glove with the fingertips cut to let claws poke comfortably through. It was nearly overwhelmed by the surge of sensations accompanying a mortal body. No matter how many times it entered a new one, those first few days always took some getting used to. It paused for a moment to savor the scent of warm flesh, and then it pounced.

It seized Raymond by the neck and leaned in to end the shortest hunt it could remember. He reminded it that he was still holding a knife. The agony of sharp metal sliding into its belly overruled all other thoughts, and it released him to topple to the ground at his feet. Over the centuries it lost previous host bodies to arrows, fire, decapitation, and all manner of other gruesome defenses humans could throw at it. Pain was not something it would ever become accustomed to.

It voiced its displeasure with a weak growl while it struggled to gather its wits and prepare for a follow-up attack. Raymond hesitated. It could feel the wound healing from the inside out. It did not have much spare energy left to repair this host body, so it lay still and tried to make him think it was dead. It heard the faint noise he made when he moved closer.

It sprang up and reached for him. He plunged the knife into its hand, but it pushed through the pain to shove him off balance. By the time he was back on his feet it realized it had inadvertently deprived him of the pain-inducing tool. The knife was stuck through the middle of its hand. It could not think of a time it was more pleased to be stabbed. It pulled the knife out and shook its head. "Not very nice."

The wound healed. It watched the look of shock that washed over Raymond's face with great satisfaction. He reached for his supplies, but it cut him off from access to any other weapons by seizing him and tossing him out of the cave.

It crouched, struggled to hold back from leaping right on top of him, and waited for him to get up. After all that pain he owed it. It tilted its head to the side and smiled when he simply sat up to stare. "Go on, run. More fun that way."

Raymond did not bear the proper expression of panic-stricken prey. "You might as well kill me now. I will not spend the last moments of my life entertaining some demon."

It searched Jacques' memories for the meaning of the unfamiliar word. Images of monstrous creatures that fed on hatred sprang to mind. It tilted its head to the other side. "Wendigo is no demon. Just hungry."

"Wendigo?"

It nodded. "Hungry spirits." It pointed to Pierre's body, still obscured in its primitive blanket burial. "You eat, we come. No one told Jacques. No one told you?"

Raymond shook his head. "I have not heard of it. Is that your name?"

It shrugged. "No names. I am Wendigo. Others are Wendigo. All Wendigo."

Raymond looked unimpressed. His ability to accept his fate without panicking and providing a game of chase was disappointing. It contented itself to spend a few minutes inspecting its newest host body. It made sure all joints were in working order, and it tugged at the weird hairs on its chin to see if they were really attached. When it was satisfied it returned its attention to Raymond and grinned. "You should have eaten. Jacques will live forever. My gift to him."

Raymond's face fell, then hardened. "What did you do to him?"

It pressed a finger to its head. "He is here. Cannot speak. Only watches. Now, will you run?"

Raymond spat. "Like hell I will. Jacques, please, you must fight it! Give me a sign that you are still in there!"

It placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but held his ground with one of the most determined expressions it ever saw a human wear. It leaned in closer. "Jacques thanks you. You give him strength. You are good friend."

The stoic facade melted with widening terror-stricken eyes, but it was too hungry to give the man another change at providing entertainment. It pinned him to the ground and sank its teeth into his throat.

Warm blood seeped past its lips and dribbled onto the snow. It tore into its prey like a ravenous wolf, but its efficiency put all natural predators to shame. When there was no more flesh it crunched through bone. When there was no bone it licked every spilled drop of blood from the snow. When the snow was clean it ate every scrap of cloth that carried the scent of blood. When there was no trace of a warm meal left it moved on to the frozen body of Pierre. Jacques' emaciated form, preserved as it was when the spirit took up residence, did not gain a pound.

The trouble with being an embodiment of hunger was that the only satisfaction to be had was during the meal itself. After Wendigo devoured every last scrap of humanity it was left with an empty camp and nothing to fuel its obsession. Its introduction to the human mind had, however, given it the closest thing to a suitable distraction- curiosity. It picked through the men's belongings to learn more about these strange people from the mysterious land of France.

When it picked up a long metal object with a hole on one end it studied memories and saw that this was a dangerous weapon. It was like a bow, only it shot small metal balls instead of arrows. Wendigo imitated the stance it saw from Jacques' memories of using the weapon and aimed at a bird perched on a low tree branch. It squeezed the trigger. The gun roared like a clap of thunder in its hands. It leapt ten feet into the air, flung the horrible thing away, and hit the ground running. It did not stop until it remembered that there was no reference in the information on guns about them being able to chase you.

Sometimes it wished it could focus more time on the simple pleasures of hunting and less on investigating the disturbing things the human imagination was capable of.